


Just a Little Patience

by DragonGirl420



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 06:21:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16613582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonGirl420/pseuds/DragonGirl420
Summary: Dean showed up at the bar Y/N worked in one night with his brother, and from there, she and Dean became quick friends who had a growing attraction. However, her life was complicated by a wedding ring and absent husband. When he finally returns, Y/N begs Dean to leave and never come back. But what happens when fate seems to intervene and gives them both signs that they made the wrong choice?





	Just a Little Patience

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for @cole-winchester ‘s Writing Prompt challenge (congrats again babe!!). My prompt was: “Falling in love with you wasn’t a part of my life plan, but I don’t regret that I did.” I also used the song, Patience by Guns ‘n Roses as inspiration and some lyrics are used within the fic.

The whiskey burned as it tore down his throat that was already raw from the screaming match, he had with Sam earlier. But Dean didn’t care. He slammed the glass to the bar and motioned for another. The bartender gave him an uncertain look, but Dean’s expression demanded more.

“Just leave the damn bottle,” he growled and didn’t give the man a second glance as he made a hasty exit to the other end of the bar.

Dean poured his own shot from the bottle and tossed it back, filling the glass again before he could even finish swallowing the last one. Getting shit faced drunk was high on his priority list, and he couldn’t care less what the bartender, or other patrons, or even his little brother thought about it. For once, this bout of drunkenness wasn’t caused by a hunt, the fight with Sam or even the death of someone close to him. This time, it was all because of a woman.

She had been the frequent cause for so many of his internal debates of right versus wrong in the last few months. Y/N wasn’t anything he expected yet turned out to be exactly what he had been looking for without even realizing it. He’d gone for so many years happily meeting women and spending a night, two tops, with them. Then, Y/N came along and threw all that on its head.

For a girl he never even kissed, Dean felt like she ruined him for anyone else. He hated her for it at first, because when it was time to walk away, he couldn’t until she screamed at him that he had too. She was messy, had far too much baggage and “not their kind of problem” problems. She was nothing Dean needed to get involved with. Yet, there he was; neck deep and hopelessly addicted to someone he had seen, spoken too or touched, in months.

Three shots later, and Dean was starting to feel no pain and he slipped off the stool and started singing along badly with The Allman Brothers that were playing on the jukebox. He left the bottle behind and stumbled around the nearly empty honkytonk, scanning the faces of those still there, and realized it wasn’t at all where he wanted to be.

Not this bar, not in this part of town. This was  _her_  bar. How did he allow himself to end up there? Dean ran a hand over his mouth and down the stubble on his chin. His eyes were tired, and he wanted another shot. He squeezed them shut for a moment, and her face immediately floated into his mind’s eye.

That image combined with the whiskey brought a lump into his throat as he leaned against one of the support beams. Dean pushed off, headed back towards the bar and blindly groped for a stool. He tried to shove it all back down, but that never really worked, not where she was concerned.

As the last notes of Ramblin’ Man died away, the jukebox played a cruel joke on the world’s most dangerous hunter, as the soft, melodic notes of Patience by Guns ‘n Roses started to play. He listened as best he could, feeling each line of the song and realizing that it was a sign. In his drunken state, he considered for a moment that he had played it and forgot. It was their song, after all.

He thought back to the night after the concert, he found her at the bar and wanted to talk about what had happened. She avoided him for most of the night until he finally cornered her. But before he could even begin, she started to cry. Her face that night was a mess, mascara-streaked tears had painted her cheeks, while her wet eyes implored for him to… Go? Stay? He didn’t remember right then, but they were silently pleading with him to somehow save her. He turned and left, but it crushed him to do so.

Now, here he found himself in her bar, a place he swore he’d never end up in again. Especially not after she told him to leave. He was drinking again, heavily. Not because he  _needed_  too, but because he missed her so damn much, and hadn’t seen her in more than six months. He just wanted one night where he didn’t feel anything at all.

So why did his highway hypnosis bring him there when he set out in the opposite direction? How did he end up a bottle of Jack deep before he even realized it? Sure, some time had passed, but not so much that she could be erased from his memory. Nothing could do that, and he tried. He had promised himself, and Sam, that Y/N was in his past, he wouldn’t go back and stir it up all again. That was what he fought with Sam about, and now he was here. Dean ignored the little voice that told him he needed to let go and took another shot.

Now that song was playing, the one that told him he was right where he should be, despite not really setting out to be there. Or did he?

The room was hot, and you felt a sticky layer of sweat coat your skin the minute you fell onto the stripped-down bed. Beside you, your husband snored relentlessly in the nearly pitch-black room. There would be zero chance you’d sleep, especially with him going on the way he was. Though, you were still glad he’d finally fallen asleep. He’d been worse than usual, not so much with the drinking, but with his overall behavior and hostility. So, when he finally closed his eyes for the night, relief washed over you.

When work, or the lack thereof, got worse for him, you would suffer for it. Martin had never laid a hand on you, but there were a few times that he had approached you in a manner that made you flinch and feel a ripple of unease settle into your gut. That day had been bad, as had most of the days that came before it. It had gotten so bad, however, that you had to get someone to come in and cover your shift at the bar. That meant no tips, which meant less money, which just caused another argument.

You rolled onto your side and tried to get comfortable as the mass of flesh and bone beside you took in another loud inhale of air up through his nostrils. This time it made him cough, which shook the entire bed frame. A flash of anger made you sit up and swing your legs to the floor. You bit the inside of your lip, forcing yourself to use all your willpower just to fight the urge not scream at him to shut up. The anger quickly wanted to turn into tears because it just brought up everything again; all the issues you’d been having with him ever since…

You breathed through the emotion, trying to find a calm place so you could think without breaking down. Mostly, you were afraid to wake Martin. Carefully, you got back out of bed and quietly rifled through your dresser until you found a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Being as dark as it was, you didn’t realize what you had put on until you were sitting in the car and seeing its reflecting in the rearview mirror.

When you caught sight of the shirt itself, the big GnR logo across your chest, this feeling of nostalgia clamped down on your heart. For the first time in months, you allowed yourself to speak his name out loud.

“Dean…”

You allowed yourself a moment or two, just to linger in everything that name stirred inside you. But, only a moment.

Still afraid Martin would wake and find you in the driveway, you turned the ignition and pulled out, not hitting your headlights on until you were far down the road from home. The further you drove from home, the freer you started to feel. Almost as free as you had felt with Dean. He was firmly on your mind now, and you didn’t care. You had spent the better part of the last six months doing everything within your power to forget him and even pretend he never existed.

When you met him, Martin had been gone working for weeks at a time. You took extra shifts at the bar, and even the nights where you weren’t working, you were there. Dean and his brother had come in one night and dominated the pool table for most of the evening which annoyed you to no end because you had to listen to the regulars complain. The next night, they came back, and you just happened to be off shift. When they went for the table, you stopped them and challenged them to a game. Winner takes the table, loser must buy the next round. Dean won, and you gladly bought him a round of drinks, then another, then another.

It didn’t take more than ten minutes for you to become hopelessly charmed by the stranger with the green eyes wearing the blue Henley. For the next couple nights, Sam and Dean Winchester showed up religiously at around nine. They would drink, shoot pool and close the bar with Dean in the corner seat just chatting you up about movies, tv shows, and music.

He never tried to make a move on you once he noticed the wedding ring on your finger, but it also never stopped him from making you laugh and being sweet as hell every night he came in. It didn’t help that Dean was mysterious, and endlessly interesting. He had a way of teasing you that both made you blush and infuriated you. He wasn’t threatening, but you could see how he could be intimidating, or even scary, if provoked. Everything about him was just what you needed… he was everything Martin wasn’t.

At the end of each night, they would leave, and you would go home to an empty house and stare at the ring on your finger. You knew Martin was gone for a purpose, the work was hard to find, and he had to take it where he could. It wasn’t the distance or the loneliness that bothered you, it was him. You’d been falling out of love for a while, and meeting Dean was the realization of that. Still, you didn’t know Dean completely, and you were a married woman, so you tried to put as much distance between you as possible. Somehow, Dean always found his way through it and straight back to you.

You allowed yourself to continue down memory lane as you navigated your car down the blackened roads that lead to nowhere in particular. There was no destination in mind, just the need to drive and listen to loud music. Flipping on the radio, you hit ‘scan’ so the tuner would find something that actually came in clear. The mountains didn’t always allow for the best signal, but the tinny sound of Zeppelin’s Whole Lotta Love seeped through the intermittent static.

Your fingers tapped along on top of the steering wheel, as more winding roads brought you down into the valley. When you approached the next stop sign, you realized you had no idea where you were. There was no one behind you, and you didn’t know how to decide which way to go. On the radio, Zep faded away and a soft whistle faded in. You swallowed thickly and recognized the song immediately. Your right hand touched against the logo on your shirt before your fingers curled around the material and clenched at it desperately.

A pair of headlights eventually pulled to a stop behind you and beeped the horn, giving you a nudge to decide which direction to go. Without thinking, you turned right and fell back into your memories.

It was another night at the bar. You were working and chatting with Dean, when the small radio playing next to you let the listeners know they had a chance to win tickets to see Guns ‘n Roses final tour, live. Dean’s face lit up and he whipped out his cell phone. He grabbed the number and dialed frantically as his tongue darted out nervously over his bottom lip; making him look like a giddy child.

“I got this… I so got this—“ he mumbled and suddenly inhaled sharply when the phone stopped ringing and he heard the voice on the line.

You watched him as he got more and more excited upon realizing he had been the winner of the tickets. The pure joy that was etched across his face was infectious. When he hung up, with the confirmation he could pick up the tickets at Will Call, he came around the back of the bar, and swept you up into a big bear hug, lifting your feet off the ground and swinging you back and forth.

He must have felt like he crossed the line because he put you down quickly and bashfully went back to his stool. Neither of you spoke about it, but for the moment his arms had been around you, you felt intoxicated by his proximity. When he put you down and moved away, you had a sudden urge to pull him back and make him hug you again.

“Sam’s gonna hate this,” he chuckled nervously, tucking his phone back into his pocket. “He will not enjoy this at all.”

“Not his cup of tea?”

Dean snorted a laugh and wiped at the drop of beer left on his lip. “Not even a little.”

You started drying glasses, so you would have something to do other than be affected by his touch. “Well he’s just gonna have to suck it up, isn’t he? No way you can waste that other ticket.”

“Oh, no worry there darlin’,” Dean winked and sipped at his beer. “Because I think you should go with me instead. Wouldn’t kill me to have a night away from that gasbag over there.” He motioned over his shoulder towards Sam, who was playing pool and chatting up one the female customers.

You shrugged and tried to play off your simultaneous emotions of excitement and disappointment. “I can’t go with you, I have to work.”

Dean wrinkled his face and rolled his eyes. “Bullshit. Here, watch this… Hey, uh, Mario, right?” he called to the other bartender and waved him over.

“Dean, what are you doing?” you asked nervously. “Leave Mario alone.”

He ignored you. “Hey, Mario… you working tomorrow?”

Mario shrugged and shook his head. “No, why?”

“You wanna work so this one can go with me to a concert?”

He considered it for a moment and shrugged again. “Why not, could definitely use the cash. I’ll work your shift Y/N.”

Dean’s expression shrugged right along with his “I told you so” shoulders and hand gesture.

“Dean, I can’t—”

“Because of that,” he asked quietly and looked down at your ring.

“Well, yeah.”

“We’re friends going to a concert. Totally platonic, promise.”

He picked you up the next day at six, and the moment you slid into the front seat of his ’67 Impala, you thought you may just be a little in love with him already. Dean drove fast and played his music loud. The rush of adrenaline and excitement that coursed through you felt intoxicating.  _HE_  was intoxicating. Dean directed you to the cooler in the back seat, and when you opened it up you couldn’t help but smile. Inside was two six packs of beer and to subs wrapped up from your favorite sandwich shop.

When you arrived at the venue, the parking lot was full of tailgaters –people drinking heavily and pockets of different Guns ‘n Roses songs blared from every direction. The weather looked threatening, so you and Dean sat in the front seat of the Impala, shared the beer and food, and talked until it was showtime.

It was raining by the time you made it to Will Call, and at a near downpour by the time the band took the stage. Neither of you cared. For the next few hours, you drank, sang and danced in the rain. It finally stopped and gave way to a starry filled sky just in time for Axel Rose to transition into the familiar whistle of Patience.

As he sang it, Dean’s hand found his way into yours. When you looked up at him, his eyes were still straight ahead, watching the concert and mouthing the words along with the song. He must have felt you staring at him because when he turned to you, was when you were struck by the realization you had growing feelings for him. STRONG feelings

All the people around you seemed to fade, and it was just you and Dean left standing on that lawn. The song was playing solely for the two of you, but even that felt far away. Your heart was pounding out of your chest, as his hand gripped yours tighter. There was so much electricity in that moment, so much heat between you, it was as if there were invisible forces pushing you towards each other, despite knowing it was wrong.

Dean wanted to say or do something, it was written all over his face. You wanted him to say it, too, but you knew it would lead to something that could only end badly.

“Don’t,” you whispered, which he somehow heard over the crowd and music. “Please, Dean…” You looked away from him, casting your eyes to the ground.

His finger lifted your chin, forcing you to look at him again. He still held your hand, refusing to let it go. As the lyrics came through the speakers, he smiled and used his grip on you to pull you into his arms as he sang along, just loud enough for you to hear him.

 _“_ _I sit here on the stairs_  
‘Cause I’d rather be alone  
If I can’t have you right now, I’ll wait dear,  
hmmm mmmm….

He hummed along for a few more bars before picking up the words again.

 _Said woman take it slow and things will be just fine_  
You and I’ll just use a little patience  
Said sugar take the time 'cause the lights are shining bright  
You and I’ve got what it takes to make it…”

You stayed that way through the rest of the song, only releasing each other to applaud along with the rest of the crowd at the end. The show was over shortly after that, as you moved along with the herd of concert goers, Dean jumped out of line to buy one of the last shirts that was left.   
“Here, you’re soaked through. This way you won’t freeze,” he winked, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, guiding you through the mass exodus towards the parking lot.

The Impala rolled up to the front door of your house and that’s when you knew it was all over. Martin’s truck was parked in the driveway, and Dean seemed to realize exactly what that had meant, too. There were no lights on inside, which meant he was most likely sleeping, but a bolt of fear still ran through your heart.

“I—I better go, the old man is home,” you said, trying to sound cheerful, but neither of you believed it.

Dean was quiet, staring straight ahead and clearly trying not to say more than was necessary. Eventually, he looked your way and forced a smile on his face.

“Yeah, I see that.”

“Thanks for the concert, and the shirt,” you said and reached for the door handle. Before you could, he reached out and grabbed your wrist gently to stop you.

“Y/N…”

You froze and when you turned back to him, there was a dreamy, wistful light in his eyes which made your entire body weak for him.

“I, uh, I don’t want you to—”

“I don’t want to go either,” you said quietly, cutting him off but unable to look him in the eye. His fingers interlaced with yours, and that invisible force was there again, just pushing you closer.

If not for the light that flipped on inside, you would have kissed him them. But then the front door opened. You forced his hand from yours and jumped out of the car before you lost your nerve to and without saying goodbye.

 

You didn’t realize you had pulled over to the side of the road, until a car buzzed by you far too quickly, rocking yours from the force with which it passed. The song was still playing but nearing its end and you suddenly wished you could start it over and relive that night of the concert. When that light came on, you should have kissed him, then told him to keep driving and never stop.

Somehow, in the span of a week and very little physical contact, you’d fallen head over heels for a man you barely knew who had stellar taste in everything and whose intense gaze made you feel like the only woman on Earth.

When the guitar finally faded out, and a slew of commercials took its place, you put the car back in drive and merged back onto the road. Doing your best to leave memories of Dean Winchester behind.

[Originally posted by justjensenanddean](https://tmblr.co/ZXeJsu2KNjYr6)

The pain that tore through Dean’s head was nearly as painful as the memories that ripped his heart to pieces the night before. He sat up on the motel bed and wondered how he ended up there. The last thing he recalled was sitting at the bar with a nearly empty bottle of Jack and that song on the jukebox.

That fucking song.

A knock at the door confused him further, as he scanned the room for any signs of Sam but saw none. He stumbled towards the door and tried to read the name of the motel off the fire exit map, but age had worn most of the letters away. The door wasn’t chained, so he attached it, then opened it  just open to peer one untrustworthy eye at whomever had come knocking.

The man looked familiar, but in his current state, it escaped Dean on where he knew him.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice rough with whiskey and sleep.

“Dean… it’s me, Mario. Came to check up on ya buddy. You hit the bottle hard last night my friend.” He raised up the white, grease-stained bag of food and smiled. “Can I come in? I brought breakfast.”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and recalled a very blurry memory of Mario helping him off the barstool. He closed the door, unchained it and let Mario in, snatching the bag of food the moment the man walked through the door and spying inside it.

“Hope you don’t mind that I stopped by. I was going in to open the bar and wanted to see if you were alright.”

“You’re the one who got me in here last night?”

“Yeah. You had passed out on the bar top, man. Mumbling Y/N’s name and slurring the words of some song. I felt bad for ya, couldn’t get your brother to answer his phone to come get you, so I got you a room and here you are.”

Dean paused as he unwrapped the sausage sandwich and hash browns, “Thanks, I appreciate that.”

“Of course, Y/N would kill me if I didn’t. I offered to call her for you, but you were adamant that I didn’t. What happened? You guys were friends, right? I mean she used to talk about you all the time.”

“She did?” he asked before devouring the food, trying not to sound overly excited.

“Yeah, she, uh—” he stopped when his phone rang from his pocket. He pulled it out just enough to see the number and jumped up from the chair he’d just sat on. “Oh damn, I really gotta go. My boss is waiting for me at the bar. Glad you’re alright man, enjoy the grub. Your car is parked around back, by the way. I left the keys on the nightstand.”

“You drove my car?!” Dean asked with a bit of angry induced panic.

“Had to get you here somehow. Got my sister to follow me over and bring me home. Sorry, I gotta run, it was good to see you though,” Mario smiled but was happy to leave quickly when he realized Dean was upset about the car.

Dean finished the food and went to check on his baby and grab his duffle bag, before going back to the room and taking the longest, hottest shower of his life.

Two hours later, Dean had left the motel behind him, firmly pointed in the direction of home. Sam was off helping Eileen with a case in Idaho and pissed at him anyway. There was no other cases on his radar, so he figured home would be his best option.

As he put more miles between him and the small mountain town Y/N lived in, without looking, he rifled through the box of cassette tapes at his side. Not caring what he found, he shoved the first one he grabbed into the tape deck and slammed on the breaks when he recognized the opening licks to Reckless Life off the G N’R Lies, album. The song piped through the Impala’s speakers, making his jaw clench in frustration. He knew what he had to do, and if he fought it any longer, he would finally go insane.

“Sonofabitch!” he yelled and slammed his fist down on the steering wheel. “Fuck this,” he growled and sharply turned the wheel, spinning Baby around and pushing the gas pedal straight down to the floor.

The sun was nearing noon and the heat of the day was stifling as he guided the car up to her house. He fully expected to find her car in the driveway but wasn’t sure if it would be alone or not. To his surprise, her vehicle was gone, but Martin’s was there.

Dean realized that he didn’t care, he needed to see her. He needed to know if the months of pining for this woman had been worth it… was  _she_ worth it? He wanted to touch her; kiss her at least once. If it earned him a punch in the face from her husband, so be it. Dean knew he wasn’t normally the kind of man that would purposely break up a marriage, but he also knew he’d hate himself if he didn’t at least try.

He didn’t know what he was doing, exactly. Dean moved on instincts alone when he got out of the car and slowly approached the front door. He figured they got him this far in life, why not just follow them now. He didn’t know what he was going to say to her husband. Hell, he didn’t even know if they were still together. The only thing he did know was that her image wasn’t going away, and he needed to see her.

Every step he took, a different reason or thought barreled through his mind as to why he shouldn’t be doing this.

_She doesn’t know about your life… what if when you tell her she freaks and runs… and this is all for nothing?_

_What if she’s happy with him now?_

_What if you misread the whole situation, you jackass?_

_What if, what if, what if…_

Dean was so lost in thought, he didn’t hear her car pull up into the driveway or the door closing behind him.

You pulled into the driveway, and your stomach bottomed out at the sight of the Impala on the curb. At first you thought it was a dream, or the ghosts of things past coming back to haunt you. But seeing Dean slowly approaching your front door, caused you to realize it was real, and freeze completely. A swirling eddy of thoughts and emotions rushed through you so fast, you could barely understand any of them… scared for what was about to happen, delighted to see him, terrified of Martin’s reaction, curious, enamored, excited, petrified… Finally, once you were able to move, you got out of the car and started to approach him.

“Dean?”

He stopped at the sound of your voice, and when he turned around, it was as if no time had passed at all. A smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth and you noticed his hands nervously clenching and releasing.

“Hey.” His voice was deeper and raspier, his face looked drawn and tired, but there was the same wanting need burning in his eyes, getting more intense the longer he held your gaze.

“Hey,” you replied in more of a squeak, than an actual response. “What, uh, what’s up? Why are you here?”

“Well, oddly enough I ended up the bar last night. Had one too many and, uh…” he paused and chuckled sheepishly, “guess I tied one on. Mario got me to a room to pass out in.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, killer hangover, but,” he smiled and shrugged, “you know how it goes.”

You nodded but didn’t know what to say. You were fighting the urge to get any closer, to spark the conversation as to why he was really there. You thought maybe if you could keep it to friendly banter, you’d be able to watch him leave without it sparking any trouble with Martin. It may have worked, if he hadn’t noticed the shirt you were wearing.

Dean swallowed thickly and tentatively took the last dozen steps to close the gap between you. “You still have it.”

“Of course. I couldn’t ever part with it,” you smiled softly and pulled at the hem. “It was a great concert.”

“I was on my way home, Y/N,” he said, his voice shaky and nervous as he suddenly changing the subject. “I was headed home, running home actually, away from this damn town and that fucking bar. I was leaving without seeing you or causing you any trouble. Hell, I didn’t even  _mean_  to show up here. I was in the area for work, and somehow…”

You couldn’t help but chuckle and recite that infamous line from Casablanca. “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world… he walks into mine,” you mumbled, but he heard you and nodded.

“Yeah, exactly. What sort of threw me, even more, was when that song came on the jukebox. Then when I was driving home, I pull out any old random cassette just to kill the silence and it’s ones of theirs,” he said and motioned to your shirt.

You tried to stifle the emotion that was building, as you recalled your own night before and hearing the song, seemingly random on the radio. But there was nothing random about that at all.

“Dean… I—”

“Just, let me finish, okay? My life is messy, and sort of going in one specific direction. There’s a plan, here, and it doesn’t include a whole lot of people that stick around. Its full of crazy coincidences, and lots of… scary things. I have no right to be here, to be talking to you in front of the house you share with your husband, but yet, here I am. Because I’m selfish, and I couldn’t leave without telling you—”

“Telling me what, Dean?”

“That, I’m pretty sure I’m love with you. The simple fact that I don’t know what you thought that was back then, friendship or something more, or that I’ve haven’t kissed you yet… it makes no sense. I just know that the time I spent with you at that bar, and at the concert… it won’t go away. YOU won’t go away.”

His declaration was shocking at first, but then, it wasn’t. Not really and mostly because, that’s exactly how you felt. There was no rhyme or reason for it. You spent a week of nights just talking to this stranger, getting wrapped up in his wit and charm. That moment you had at the concert cemented it, you felt something for him that you shouldn’t. Because you “belonged” to someone else, you didn’t allow yourself any more time to ponder what could have been with Dean. But now…

“Look, Y/N, I know there’s a lot—”

The front door crashed open cutting off his thought, and Martin stalked outside in nothing but a pair of jeans looking like a man crazed.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he roared at you, completely ignoring Dean standing there. He barreled towards you, a thin layer of sweat immediately forming on his head as the hot afternoon sun blazed down on everyone, heightening the atmosphere already heavy with excitement.

Dean seemed stuck in place, watching Martin come at you like a bull towards a Matador. It was when Martin’s hand grabbed your upper arm, that he sprang into action. Martin’s grip on your arm sent a bolt of pain down to your hand as you tried to wiggle free of his grasp, causing you to yelp with pain.

“Man, you better let her go,” Dean warned, finally earning a bit of attention from your husband.

“Who the fuck are you?!” Martin yelled, let go of you and tried to cock his arm back to punch Dean. Before he could even swing his arm forward, Dean popped the much larger man in his jaw, causing him to stumble back away from you. Dean stepped in front of you, protecting you from being grabbed again and clenched his fist in anticipation to swing a second time.

“I’m the guy she’s leaving with, that’s who,” Dean growled.

You grabbed a handful of his shirt and buried your face into his back. His shirt was sweaty, and he still smelled faintly of whiskey, but you didn’t care. At that moment all you wanted to do was go with him and never look back. But you couldn’t without standing up to Martin first.

Dean tried to stop you, but you ignored his attempt. “Martin, I’m sorry. I… I can’t do this anymore.” You looked at Dean briefly and was encouraged to continue just from the look of relief on his face. “I don’t love you anymore.”

“But you love him?! This is the same guy, isn’t it? The one you cheated with when I was gone!” Martin was making his way back towards Dean, ready for a second chance to fight.

“Yes and no. I never cheated on you, but yes, I met him at the bar and he became my friend. I never slept with him, never even kissed him. But I fell in love with him anyway. I’m sorry, Martin…”

He stopped coming towards you and Dean and laughed. “You know what, take her. She’s been nothing but a pain in the ass since I met her. I should never have come back to this shit town. Do you know what I left behind for you, you bitch? I left a good job and a good woman.”

You and Dean both were taken aback by that last part, but you didn’t even care. “Well then, I guess nothing’s stopping you from going back there then, is there?”

Dean slipped his hand into yours, just like he did that night at the concert and squeezed it tightly.

“Go fuck yourself, you whore,” he spat and shook his head. “This, this is mine, along with everything in it,” he motioned back wildly towards the house. “Car, too. So, if you leave, you leave with the shirt on your back and nothing else.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Fine by me. This shirt, this is my most prized possession anyway.” You turned to Dean and thought about kissing him right there, but you didn’t want your first kiss with him to be around your soon to be ex-husband. Instead, you simply asked Dean. “Ready?”

He didn’t say a word, only led you away from Martin and towards his car. As he pulled away from the curb, you silently said goodbye to the life you felt so desperately trapped in and didn’t feel one ounce of regret for it.

The first mile or two, both of you were completely silent. Dean moved the car into an empty parking lot of some closed-down supermarket and turned off the engine. The second he turned to you, you moved across the seat and exhaled nervously. His expression softened and his mouth relaxed into the hint of a grin. 

“I thought about you every day,” he said, barely above a whisper.

Dean’s hand lightly brushed against your cheek, before lowering his lips towards yours. There had been so much anticipation for this moment on both parts, he didn’t want to rush it. His mouth hovered over yours, barely grazing against you, and when they finally came together it wasn’t anything like you imagined.

There wasn’t fireworks or electric sparks flying everywhere. That had already happened the night you met him. This was more of a reassurance; proof that this man was meant for you, and you for him. Dean kissed you softly, his lips parting only briefly but he didn’t rush it. Your patience had paid off and now you had all the time in the world; no reason to hurry anything along, except your slow burning need to feel more of him.

You positioned your hand on the back of his neck, which encouraged him to part your lips with his tongue. The more your mouths merged together, the more he tasted like mint and coffee, and easily felt better than anything had ever felt in your entire life. Dean’s hands traveled roughly down the length of your side, only pulling away from your kiss to slide himself closer, guiding your hips so you were now straddling his lap in the front seat of the Impala.

“Worth the wait?” you teased before kissing him again.

His hand tangled up in your hair, pushing your mouth deeper onto his. When you were able to come up for air again, he smiled as if still living in a dream. “So fucking worth it.”

“Dean, there’s so much we don’t know—”

“I know, and we will. We will figure it all out. Right now, all I know is that  ** _falling in love with you wasn’t a part of my life plan, but I don’t regret that I did._** I don’t regret anything. I hope you don’t either.”

“Never,” you replied wistfully.

“You say that now,” he teased, but there was fear in his eyes.

“I will say that always. I knew I was in love with you by the second day I knew you. I just thought it was a crush since you were the first guy that was kind and made me laugh, that didn’t just hit on me or grab my ass. You made me feel so much just by talking to me, laughing with me. That concert, I wanted to kiss you, tell you to keep driving… but I got scared.”

“I wish you had,” he rasped and cupped your cheek with his hand. He slowly guided your face to his, allowing your lips to engage each other again. This time it was even harder to break away and you nearly weren’t able too. Cooler heads prevailed and eventually, you climbed off his lap, leaving him very clearly affected.

“That hotel you stayed at… think your room is still available?” you asked cautiously. “I mean, we don’t have to rush anyth—”

Dean started the engine and peeled out onto the road, roaring down the pavement and straight back to where he woke up that morning. You couldn’t help but throw your head back and laugh at his reaction. As his one hand rested on the wheel, directing the Impala down the highway, his other arm wrapped around your shoulder and pulled you in.

“Patience is great and all, but I’m done waiting, now that I actually got you,” he said and kissed the top of your head, before putting his eyes back on the road.

You buried yourself into the crook of his arm and rested your hand on his thigh. You didn’t care what came next, you were pretty damn content right where you were and had no plans on going anywhere.


End file.
